


WIP Amnesty #1

by jinxfabray



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Porn Without Plot, WIP Amnesty, aka i'm never gonna finish it so it's just the porn, there used to be a plot but it got lost somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxfabray/pseuds/jinxfabray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn takes Harry home after a college party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WIP Amnesty #1

**Author's Note:**

> psa: i'm honestly never gonna finish this, but i've had this scene on my drafts for months and it's a scene with a beginning and an end so. read at your own risk. also it's not been beta'd or anything, all mistakes are mine!  
> warning: zayn has the shortest refractory period in history in this

It’s very loud and Zayn wouldn’t have come if Liam hadn’t been so insistent, carrying on and on about how Niall would ditch him the minute he found his boyfriend like he’d been doing consistently for the past six months and then Liam would be all alone and he’d be bored and it would all be Zayn’s fault. Except the second they get there, even before Niall spots Louis in the crowd and does indeed ditch them, Liam sees someone he thinks he recognizes from some class, and Zayn finds himself nursing a beer all alone in a corner.

It’s not that he doesn’t like parties, because he does, he truly does. It’s just that he doesn’t really know anyone yet and he feels very out of his element here. He was much better at this back at home, where everyone was a friend or at least a friend of a friend, and he trusted them enough to know they wouldn’t laugh at him if he got too drunk. Or at least, they would help him out while laughing.

This place is full of strangers and Zayn can see Niall hanging off Louis’ neck as they talk to some very lanky boy, while Liam, very surprisingly, seems to be chatting up a girl so tiny Zayn figures she’d fit in a cupboard. It’s kind of cute, really, and he gets a little caught up in watching how Liam seems to be trying extra hard to get her to laugh while she seems to be putting just as much effort in staying serious, so he doesn’t notice someone walking up to him until he’s incredibly, uncomfortably close.

“Hello there,” he smiles lazily, and Zayn thinks this is the boy he saw talking to Niall and Lou just now, but he’s not sure because he had his back to him then. “Your friend has stolen my friend, so I’ve demanded a backup friend to make up for it and they’ve pointed me to you. I’m Harry.”

Zayn rolls his eyes but only a little because he’s in the exact same situation, and he’s actually a bit happy to not be left alone.

“Zayn, nice to meet you,” he offers a smile and Harry’s turns into a full blown grin that’s slightly dizzy to stare at, so Zayn finds himself looking away. “And yeah, I can be your backup friend, mine seem to have left me for more interesting people.”

“Alright then,” Harry seems to be profoundly pleased at his agreeing, “let’s be bitter and neglected together.”

It’s a bit of a stretch because Zayn surely doesn’t feel bitter, though neglected might actually be accurate, but he nods anyway and Harry hooks their arms together, leading them to the bar.

After that, it’s all a blur. There’s shots, and then some more shots, lots of toasting to terrible friends and amazing back ups, and then at some point Zayn’s head starts to swim and he can’t help it if when Harry tells him some really lame knock knock joke, he laughs so hard he ends up pressed up against his chest. By the time they abandon the bar and go outside, they’re already way past drunk and they stumble into a game of beer pong which Harry decides they must join, but it just so happens they’re both terrible at it, or maybe Zayn’s terrible at it and Harry’s just more interested in the beer than in winning.

It’s a matter of gravity, really, the way Harry stumbles against him after jumping up a little too high to celebrate -well, he’s not sure what, because he’s pretty sure he missed the shot but he’s still shouting with his arms up and he lands on Zayn, and then there’s a moment. A single moment in which they stare at each other and no one’s laughing anymore.

After that, all Zayn seems to remember is dragging Harry by the hand away from the party, vaguely realizing they’re at a frat house and it’s a bit of a walk until they get to his building, but Harry’s pressed up against his back and he’s drunk enough that it seems to be almost like they teleported. Before he knows it, he’s fumbling about with the keys and getting his door open is almost impossible when Harry’s hands are splayed on his stomach, going lower and lower and there is no way Zayn’s getting the door open like this but he’s also not very interested in coming right there in the hallway, so he slaps them away and finally unlocks it.

Liam and Niall will be back eventually, but Zayn can’t bring himself to be quick about it, not when Harry leans against the door and watches him intently toe off his shoes as if he’s putting on some kind of show for him. It’s too much, the intensity of his stare, so Zayn kisses him slow and deep, if only to get that dizzy, breathless look on Harry’s face right after.

He only takes a moment to look at him, his pink lips all wet and shiny, and then Harry’s putting his hand on his neck and pulling him back in, kissing him roughly as his other hand moves down his back to grab his bum. They’re entirely pressed up against each other and Zayn shifts so he’s got a knee between Harry’s, making him groan into their kiss.

A part of Zayn wants to suggest moving to the bed, but then Harry ruts shamelessly against his leg and his priorities change. Pulling away from his lips, he moves on to kissing his jaw, and then his neck, while his hands fiddle with his zipper until he can sneak one in and wrap his fingers around Harry’s cock. Harry straight out moans at the first touch, and he arches into it so vehemently that Zayn’s a little impressed. His body seems to be super sensitive all over, and Zayn can’t wait to find out more spots that will get him shivering like the one he’s currently sucking on right above his collarbone. Or maybe it’s his loose grip on his dick and how he’s very slowly wanking him as if he needed any help getting hard when he’s already thick and heavy in his palm. Either way, Zayn wants more, he wants to wreck him, to make a mess out of him.

Harry’s eyes flutter open, and Zayn was only getting started when Harry pushes his hand away and flips them around, Zayn’s back hitting the wall with a loud thud that makes him wince a little, but he doesn’t even get to complain before Harry’s dropping to his knees.

“ _Oh_ ” he gets out, and Harry looks up at him with an obscene smirk as he gets his jeans and pants down in one go, his cock springing free and slapping against his belly, shiny and wet with precome already. There’s a moment there when Zayn wonders if he should say something else, push him forward, arch against him, because the truth is though he’s had his dick sucked before it’s never been quite like this, so casual, by someone he met four hours ago. And then Harry leans in and licks him from base to head, slowly, as if massaging him with his tongue, and Zayn gasps, breathless. It’s not until Harry opens his mouth and swallows around him, taking in as much as he can in one go and wanking the base of his cock with a hand while he holds on to his hip with the other one, that Zayn remembers to breathe, letting air out through his nose as if he’s been underwater for a very long time, and between holding his breath and how hot and wide Harry’s mouth is around him, Zayn feels like he might pass out when he comes. Which, incidentally, might happen in the next five seconds if Harry doesn’t slow down.

But Harry doesn’t seem too interested in making it last, since he keeps working his way up until his nose touches Zayn’s soft hair at the base, swallowing hard, and when he hits the back of his throat Zayn instinctively reaches out and tangles his fingers in Harry’s curls, tugging a little. Harry moans around him, loud for someone with a cock down his throat, and it’s all too much for Zayn, who can barely manage a weak warning before he’s coming hot and heavy down. Harry doesn’t even attempt to pull back, only moving a little and swallowing diligently, licking the remains at the tip before standing up. Zayn’s knees are shaking and he’s not the one who’s been on the floor, but Harry’s eyes are sparkling and he’s taking off his shirt and alright. So they’re not done.

“Bed?” Harry asks, and Zayn steps out of his pants which are tangled around his ankles by now before grabbing his hand and leading him towards it. He feels slightly ridiculous, wearing his top and his socks and nothing more, but when they reach the bed he turns around and finds Harry in the process of getting entirely naked and nothing feels funny anymore.

They stumble out of their clothes before Harry’s pushing Zayn down onto his bed, looking a lot more serious though his eyes are still shining and Zayn isn’t sure if he’s meant to be staring so much at them and pondering so much about how beautiful they are when they’re in the middle of having a casual hookup, casual being the keyword. Luckily Harry presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then moves down to kiss his neck, and then to trace his tatttoos, and Zayn would be all for the slow torture of it if he wasn’t so aware of Harry being what appears to be achingly hard.

“Harry?” he mumbles, fingers lost in his hair and tugging softly to get him to look up. Harry does so, and pulling away from where he was circling his tongue around Zayn’s nipple, his dick perking up with interest despite being slightly too soon, and he licks his lips very slowly.

“Can I fuck you?”

Zayn freezes for a moment, and then props himself up on his elbows. Harry’s just looking at him, waiting, his voice sounds husky and wrecked after having sucked him off, and Zayn thinks if he asked him if he could eat him alive right now, he’d probably say yes to that as well. For now, he limits himself to nodding, and reaches out to open his nightstand’s drawer to get out a bottle of lube.

Harry sits up, straddling him, and Zayn manages to stay propped up as he watches him slick his fingers. The first one burns a little, and it might have been a while, but Zayn clutches at the sheets and looks back at Harry, who’s still staring at him with that same burning intensity. He takes a deep breath, Harry crooks his finger and Zayn bites his lips hard before nodding.

When he adds a second finger, Harry seems to make a point out of hitting the spot that makes Zayn hiss and arch up every single time he thrusts his fingers inside him, and he’s fattening up a little too soon. The only sounds filling up the room are the wet slip of Harry’s fingers in his hole and his own moans, and Zayn’s gulping down breaths, trying not to come only from this because he can see Harry’s leaking, hard cock, and he would feel embarrassed at how badly he wants to be fucked if it didn’t feel so much more like need rather than want.

His eyes on his dick seem to spring Harry into action after what seems like an eternity of him very slowly pumping two fingers into Zayn and kissing his thighs distractedly, because he adds a third one without much of a warning and Zayn moans obscenely, legs widening on their own will.

“Harry,” Zayn pleads, tugging at his wild curls to get him to look up, and when their gazes lock, Zayn feels a shudder that feels like it doesn’t quite have to do with Harry’s fingers, and more like it’s everything to do with how warm his eyes are, how he’s looking at him as if he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “Hurry up,” he adds, and Harry shakes off that entranced look that felt so out of context, replacing it with a smirk.

“Alright,” he nods, and he pulls his fingers out slowly, though Zayn still aches a little at the loss, but Harry’s quick at rolling on a condom and positioning himself at his entrance. “You sure?” he asks, and Zayn wishes he was less gentle because this he’s definitely not used to, but he doesn’t say so and just limits his answer to a quick nod, and then he can’t say anything else because Harry’s pushing into him.

He’s big, ‘s the thing. But he bottoms out smoothly, carefully, and Zayn wants to cry or maybe scream but he’s not any less quiet in bed than he is in his everyday life so he bites his lip and closes his eyes tightly while he gets used to the stretch.

“Fuck,” he whines when Harry slowly pulls out and slides back in, and he opens his eyes to find Harry staring back with a look of concern that makes it all even worse. He’s so easy to read, it’s like every emotion that goes through Harry is automatically written all over him, and watching his face transform when Zayn nods and wraps his legs around his waist to pull him in and show him he doesn’t need him to be so gentle, that he can take it, it’s breathtaking. He goes from wide eyed trusting puppy to focused and sexy and Zayn thinks he’s not going to last another second.

As he grows certain that Zayn is actually okay and that he doesn’t need to be so careful, Harry’s thrusts get faster and harder, and soon he’s got one of Zayn’s legs lifted over his shoulder and he’s fucking him into the bed, hips snapping forward like he’s putting his every last breath into this, burying himself until it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Zayn drops himself back on the bed, gasping for air as Harry leans forward and presses breathless kisses on his skin, bending as much as he can so that he can lick over his tattoos and suck softly at his nipples.

It’s been so quiet until now, possibly because Zayn has always been quiet in bed and Harry seems to be adapting as much to what he feels Zayn might be more comfortable with, until Harry speaks, his voice still husky from before.

“Can you-,” he pants, inhaling deeply before he can finish his sentence, and Zayn’s glad he’s not the only one that’s beyond wrecked already, “can you come like this?”

He rolls his hips as he asks, and Zayn moans loudly at the thought of it, because yes, he can. He definitely can. His eyes flutter shut when Harry does it again, slower, hitting his prostate in a new angle that sends fireworks up his body, and it seems to be enough of an answer for him since he keeps doing it, grinding into him, grunting each time Zayn clenches around him.

“Okay,” Harry speaks again, mouth pressed to Zayn’s ankle, and he could drown in his voice, raspy and deep, “come for me then, Zayn. Please. Wanna see you”

It’s not a request Zayn can deny, not when it feels like he’s been holding out for hours now and all it takes is Harry fucking into him one more time before he’s coming all over his belly, warm and slick. His mouth drops open, gaping as he buries his face in the sheets, and he can’t help moaning louder than he has all this time. He’s got his eyes closed but he can hear Harry grunting when he tightens around him, driving him off the edge, and it’s only a moment after that Harry slips out, dropping next to him on the bed, shivering from his own orgasm.

Usually, Zayn would get up instantly, get them both cleaned up, and see Harry off. But he feels boneless, and he feels particularly pleased, and he’s just going to bask in it for a minute or two, or so he says to himself. He turns over to find the t-shirt he dropped on the floor earlier and uses it to clean himself up, offering it to Harry without looking at him, because he’s just not quite ready for it. He hears him get up, and that’s better, surely, he doesn’t need to tell him to leave if he’s caught the hint and is leaving of his own accord, right?

There’s the sound of something being dropped in the bin, and then the bed dips again, and this goes against each and every one of Zayn’s principles, but Harry feels warm next to him, and as he’s getting down from his high he’s starting to feel cold, so maybe he doesn’t need to kick him out right now.

Harry covers them up with a blanket and rolls over to his side, and it’s not like Zayn can do anything about it if he tugs on his arm insistently to get him to move until Zayn’s spooning him, not when he’s half asleep and too tired to refuse. Especially not when Harry feels soft and comfortable to sleep on.

It’s not something he does, sleeping with strangers and letting them stay. But he thinks of saying no, and he thinks of how sad Harry would look, and well. He can make an exception, just this once.

 


End file.
